Friday, January 4, 2013

Dead And Alive

A real actor is definitely not one of those described in Laura Stoica's song, Un actor grăbit. One who like the songs says, tells his line in a hurry, takes or not a bow then leaves for another scene.

A real actor lives you, like Marin Sorescu says. He'll put you in a trance, brother, and leave you with an ache, a little something to add on your baggage of engrams, like in Scientology or repressions, like in psychoanalysis or subconscious sins. Admiration, hate, voyeurism, envy.

A real idol will understand you, will annihilate your will and replace it with a desire to be alike. Like a sort of god. Is it a pure coincidence that in Sanskrit the meaning for the word भरथ, bharata, can be either priest, king, barbarian or actor?

He will leave us with the undetermination of being or not a little like him. Because he's always changing make-ups and clothes and attitudes.

What younger people can't understand is you can never match an illusion. And you will never know what's behind it or motivate it.